


Oblivious Inamorato

by syrenpan



Series: Arthur/Danse stories [8]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal, Comedy, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Oral, Orgasm Denial, Pining Arthur, Romance, dense Danse, oblivious cookie Danse, tiny bit of blood and gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 18:49:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8338774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrenpan/pseuds/syrenpan
Summary: Danse is not stupid, but some things just fly over his head.





	1. Late Night Visit

**Author's Note:**

> For the Dumpster - you know who you are, my lovelies.

Danse startled when a warm hand on his shoulder woke him from sleep. 

He turned around to find Arthur Maxson crouching in front of his bunk. The Elder seemed troubled, although it was hard to tell in the faint glow of the emergency lights.

“Sir?” 

“It’s...I was…,” Arthur’s voice faltered. He was avoiding Danse’s gaze by focussing on something on the floor. 

Danse rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows. He cocked his head to the side and listened but apart from the ever present hum of the huge engines, all seemed to be quiet. He glanced at the other man again.

“Can I do something for you, Arthur?” 

“It’s stupid, I’m sorry. Go back to sleep,” Maxson said and attempted to stand up. 

Danse reached out and caught Arthur’s wrist. “Hey, sit down.” There was no real resistance when he tugged until Arthur perched on the edge of the bunk. Danse sat up all the way, ruffling his hair, and stifling a yawn with the back of his hand.

“You’re tired. I shouldn’t have-”

“Arthur,” Danse said patiently. With some alarm, he watched Maxson wring his hands and squeeze his eyes shut. “Please tell me what’s going on. If there is anything I can do to help, I will do it, you know that, don’t you?” 

To his surprise, Arthur chuckled but it was not a happy sound, more the kind of noise a desperate man made just before he was led to the gallows, a sort of fatal glee. Danse had not been worried until that moment. 

He reached out and put his hand on Arthur’s arm. “What-”

Arthur looked down where Danse’s hand touched him. He slowly lifted his own hand and covered Danse’s with his.

“I missed you,” Arthur confessed through clenched teeth. 

“I...uhm...I think I missed you, too,” Danse replied, a bit stunned by the rather emotional undertone. He wondered whether Maxson had been drinking. He leaned forward and inhaled deeply. He feigned an attempt to sneeze, hoping it was subtle enough not to get noticed. There was a hint of whiskey, but mostly just Arthur. He smelled nice. 

Maxson turned his head to him. “Are you-?” He huffed and rolled his eyes, “It was one drink, you can stop sniffing.”

“Sorry, it’s just-”

“For courage, admittedly.” 

“Courage? Why would you-”

Maxson took a deep breath and squeezed the hand under his own. “I  _ really _ missed you.” 

Danse frowned. It was of course nice that Arthur had missed him but why would he need courage to tell him. Why come here and tell him in the middle of the night? 

Danse decided he was too tired for this and replied, “That’s really nice of you to say.”

Arthur sighed and pulled his hand back. He stood up and walked back to the door. Somehow Danse got the feeling he had missed an important bit of the conversation but couldn’t think of what it might be. 

Arthur’s hand was on the door handle when he said, “Get some sleep, Paladin. I’ll see you in the morning.” 


	2. Third Player

Danse leaned his back against the wall inside the Vertibird. He felt tired but satisfied. The kind of satisfaction one got from a job well done.

He and newly appointed Knight Bryson had cleared out Fort Strong in record time and secured the Fat Man shell stockpile. The Elder would be pleased. Danse had sent Bryson ahead to report their success while he secured the area and waited for reinforcements who arrived soon after.

Danse looked at the Prydwen, a majestic outline in front of the backdrop of a crisp, blue sky. He smiled to himself, realising he really had been gone for too long.

What was that old saying? Absence makes the heart grow fonder. It sure did which brought his thoughts back to the night before when Arthur had woken him up to tell him he had missed him.

That had been odd. Nice, but certainly unusual. Even for two people who had been friends for going on six years now. Of course, they had always maintained a professional decorum in public. That went without saying. However, in private, he called Maxson by his first name most of the time and especially after half a bottle of bourbon.

When Danse was not out on duty, he would stop by Arthur’s quarters in the evening for a round of chess and a drink whenever time permitted it. They would talk shop and then start chatting about, well, everything and nothing really. Danse had never given it much thought up to this point. It was just something he did like breathing - a fact of life.

It suddenly occurred to Danse that Arthur didn’t seem to have many friends. He frowned. Or any really. Come to think of it, he had never seen or heard anyone say they had just “hung out” with the Elder. Anyone other than him at least.

No wonder Arthur had missed him, he had probably been a bit lonely.

Danse had been too busy with the chaos of their recon mission since his departure to think about how different his life was in the field. The job demanded his full attention with little down time for personal reflections.

Well, he did have time now.

 _“Maybe a bottle of bourbon and a game of chess to celebrate a successful mission would make for a nice evening,”_ he mused, smiling to himself.

The Vertibird swerved in a wide arch to prepare for docking. It was funny how the movement always made Danse’s tummy flip a little.

*~*

“Sir, do you have a moment?” Danse asked as he stepped onto the command deck.

Arthur was facing away from him, hands clasped behind his back. Broad shoulders, head held proud, every inch of Maxson radiated confidence and conviction even when he was just standing still.

 _“You really have a soul forged from eternal steel, Arthur. It shines through you,”_ Danse thought, a warm feeling pooling in his gut that seemed to spread when Arthur turned around and smiled at him.

“Good work at Fort Strong, Paladin. Knight Bryson briefed me on your success.”

“Thank you, sir,” Danse beamed.

“Bryson seems to have been a lucky find after all. I admit, even with your glowing recommendation tagged to his application, I wasn’t too sure about allowing a vault dweller into our ranks so quickly. But it seems I was right in trusting you - as usual.”

The heat from his gut was now creeping up the back of Danse’s neck.

“Thank you, sir. I was confident he wouldn’t disappoint. Bryson had already proven his capability in the field. I knew from the moment I had seen him in action that he was Brotherhood material. He has taken our values and interests to heart and shown a keen interest in our history and leadership.”

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up, “Did he now?”

“Yes, sir. He asked very detailed question about you, and commented favourably on your dedication to our cause. I’m confident he is very proud to serve under you, as we’re all.”

Mason’s looked to the side, “Hm, maybe that’s why,” he mumbled, apparently to himself.

“Sorry, sir?”

“Nevermind. Was there anything else?”

“As a matter of fact, there is. I was wondering-”

A scribe stormed onto the bridge, “Apologies, Elder, but I have an urgent message from Lancer-Captain Kells regarding Project Avalon.”

“Thank you, Scribe, tell him I’ll meet with him in my quarters,” Maxson ordered before he said, “I’m sorry, Paladin, we’ll have to continue this another time.”

“Of course. Ad victoriam, Elder,” Danse saluted and watched as Arthur rushed out of the room.

Danse felt a pang of disappointment but maybe he could just drop in unannounced on Maxson a bit later. He used to do it all the time in the Capital Wasteland and it had never been an issue.

Given how much Arthur had missed him, he would probably be glad to see him.

*~*

It was close to midnight when Danse stepped out of his quarters, carrying a bottle of bourbon. He had donned a shirt and army slacks after his shower; hair still damp and slicked back - he really ought to get it cut. It was way past regulation length. He should probably urge Bryson to do the same - the man could braid his for crying out loud.

Speaking of the devil, Bryson opened the door to Maxson’s room just as Danse was about to knock. They stared at each other in mild astonishment before they both apologised at the same time, although Danse wasn’t clear on what they were sorry for in the first place.

“Uhm, Knight,” Danse began and moved back to allow the other man to step into the corridor. To his surprise, Bryson closed the door behind him.

“Hi, I was just on my way to bed.”

“Yes, it’s late,” Danse replied and wondered why on earth he had said that.

Bryson smiled at him. “Yes, it is.” He feigned a yawn and stretched theatrically. Danse eyed the other man from top to bottom.

_“Surely not-”_

“Knight, as your sponsor I would like to know whether you and the Elder have been...having an argument about something? If there is something amiss, I ought to know.”

Bryson stopped in mid-motion and stared wide-eyed at Danse before he chuckled and raked his hand through his long - too long - messy hair.

“Why would you think that?”

“Your face is flushed, your hair in disarray - more than usual - and you have torn a seam on the sleeve of your _new_ shirt. _New_ , Knight! They don’t come cheap. Tell me honestly, did you and Maxson get into a fight?”

“No! Everything is fine. Splendid, really. We, eh, we had a good time. Don’t worry, I promised I wouldn’t let you down and I keep my promises.”

Danse relaxed a little. Well, that much was true. So far Elliot Bryson had been nothing but a source of pride for him. He was probably flushed from the drink he could smell on him, and maybe they had been laughing a lot. Maxson could be hilarious when you got him in the right mood. Danse chuckled when he remembered tearing a muscle once because Arthur had made him laugh so hard.

When he noticed Bryson staring at him, Danse cleared his throat.

“Good. I expect you to behave as an example to your brothers and sisters. Getting into a fight with your superior on your second day would certainly qualify as the opposite.”

“Yes, sir,” Bryson agreed and saluted. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Danse saluted and lifted his fist to knock when he heard the other man say, “A...the Elder said he wanted to turn in. Just...well, you might want to come back another time. He seemed tired.”

Danse narrowed his eyes at Bryson. Arthur had looked a bit shattered earlier, come to think of it, but something told Danse he wanted to make sure everything was okay, not that Elliot needed to know that.

“Thank you, Knight. I’ll take it under advisement,” Danse replied courteously and pretended to go back to his own door.

When he was sure Bryson had left, he quickly went back to Arthur’s quarters and knocked.

“Yes?” Arthur’s voice sounded quite awake.

“It’s me, Danse.”

“Uhm-”

Maybe Bryson had been right? Danse frowned at the door. “I can come back another time, sir.”

“No! No, it’s fine. Come in.”

Danse opened the door and closed it behind him. Arthur was sprawled in a chair at the table, wearing his black BOS suit that clung to him like a second skin.

Danse noticed that the Elder must have been working out more than usual in the past months. He was sure Arthur had not been quite that well defined before he had left. He looked-

“Can I do anything for you?” Arthur enquired, dragging Danse’s eyes and attention back to the Elder’s face.  

“I was just dropping by to see whether you would care for a round of chess?” Danse asked smiling and lifting the bottle.

A pained expression crossed Maxson’s features before his lips curved upward in an attempt to smile. “Ah. I’m sorry. I need to catch up on some sleep. Maybe tomorrow? Definitely tomorrow.”

Danse would have to lie if he said he didn’t feel disappointed - he mentally kicked himself for not confirming it with him earlier like he had intended - but the prospect of some time with Arthur tomorrow softened the blow.

He was about to take his leave when he spotted the bruise.

“Arthur, did you and Bryson get into an altercation?”

Maxson’s eyes went wide. “What? No. Why? What makes you think that?”

Danse pointed at Arthur’s neck. “You look just as flushed as he did, and you have a purple bruise just above your collar.”

Arthur’s hand slapped over the spot without breaking eye-contact. His face went deadpan when he explained, “I had a little accident when I was working out in the gym earlier. Nothing to be concerned about.”

Danse would be the first to admit that he was bad at spotting lies but something was off. Way off. But why would they both lie to him?

“I’m sorry, sir. But Bryson is my responsibility and if he has disgraced himself in any way, I have to know,” he insisted.

Arthur stood up, hand still covering the treacherous bruise. His voice got louder with each word. “Do I really need to remind you that I’m the Elder, _Paladin_? If there had been an incident - which is not the case - don’t you think I’m capable of taking care of it myself?”

Danse snapped to attention. “Yes, sir. Please accept my sincere apologies. I’ve overstepped my bounds. With your permission, I’ll take my leave.”

He couldn’t remember when he had last felt so mortified. Clearly, he had read the situation all wrong and now Arthur was mad at him for interfering in his personal business. This night couldn’t get any worse. He felt ill.

But Arthur surprised him when he replied, “I-uhm. Apology accepted. Let’s move on.”

Maxson had spoken so softly, Danse’s eyes darted to Arthur’s in shock.

Danse knew he was bad at reading clues outside the battlefield but even he could see that his friend looked hurt and tired. If anything, it made Danse feel like a tool.

Only when Maxson reached out and patted him on the shoulder, did he relax a little.

“I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. It will not happen again,” he apologised again, which somehow seemed to make it worse because he was sure he saw Arthur wince. Something had gone very wrong tonight, and Danse knew it was all his fault somehow. He only wished he could think of something to make it all okay again.

“Are we still on for chess tomorrow?” Danse had no idea where that had come from, but it must have been the right thing to say.

Arthur perked up, “I would like that.”

“Me too,” Danse replied with a smile of his own. Relief washed over him like a wave, slowly dissolving the painful knot his stomach had tied itself into.

This night had been nothing short of a disaster. Danse rubbed his hand over his face. He still felt a little nauseated by the time he left and closed the door behind him. It was only five steps back to his own quarters but each step seemed to be heavier than the next.


	3. Suspicion

Sleep proved to be elusive. Danse was tossing and turning in his bunk, unable to shake the feeling he had somehow messed up big time. 

He had been so happy to be back home, and now he wished he could turn back time and start all over. But how far back? 24 hours? 48 hours? A week? The hour before he had met Elliot Bryson? 

Bryson. Now, why would he think that? The man was an asset, just as Danse had predicted. He was a perfect match for the Brotherhood. Dedicated, capable, Arthur seemed to like him. 

Uhm. Danse felt his forehead wrinkle. 

He scowled into the darkness. Bryson and Arthur. Arthur and Bryson. Arthur had come to him last night and seemed really happy to have him back, and Danse felt the same. He had said as much, hadn’t he? 

He tried to recall the sleepy conversation, but it all sounded rather pathetic on replay. Had he really told Arthur it was  _ nice _ to know he had been missed? Well, yes. But- 

Danse flopped onto his back with a growl. Arthur was happy to have him back. Danse was happy to be back. And Bryson and Arthur were lying to his face about something that had happened in Arthur’s quarters. Something important that neither of them wanted Danse to know about. 

He didn’t like it. Not one bit. It was written in the Codex: lying is bad. 

Bryson was new and from a different time no less. Maybe it had been okay to omit certain details when answering a direct question from a superior officer in his time, but look where that had gotten them. The big kaboom. 

No, nothing good ever came from lying, and Arthur Maxson of all people ought to know that. The man could recite the Codex chapter and verse, cover to cover. Granted, Arthur outranked him but...but wasn’t he also his friend? Friends shouldn’t lie to each other.  

Danse was half-tempted to sneak into Arthur’s room to confront him about this. But what would he say? 

_ “You’re my Elder and my friend, and neither of them should tell lies. So, what did you and Elliot Bryson do in this room that you don’t want me to know about?”  _

Danse flopped again and screamed into his lumpy pillow before he bounced his head into it repeatedly as if he could knock the stupid questions out of his head. It would take several hours before Danse’s eyes fluttered shut from sheer exhaustion. 

The last question he could remember before sleep claimed him was, “Why are you lying to me, Arthur?” 


	4. From the Shadows

Danse jerked awake when someone knocked on his door. It felt like he had only been asleep for seconds.

“Yes?” he called groggily.

“Do you wanna get breakfast?” It was Bryson’s voice.

 _“Not with you, I don’t,”_ Danse thought angrily. It appeared whatever hadn’t sat right about the whole situation with Maxson yesterday, had had time to fester into a splitting headache which together with the sleep deprivation did nothing for Danse’s composure.

“I’m tired, go away, Knight,” he growled at the door before he stuck his head under the pillow.

There was a brief pause before he heard, “Alright. I’ll catch you later.” The echo of footsteps grew fainter as the other man left. And good riddance!

Danse wondered whether Arthur was awake yet? Was he having breakfast? With Bryson?

All attempts to go back to sleep were fruitless after that thought. Cranky and achy, he forced his body out of bed. He eyed the stimpak in his first aid kid but decided against wasting precious resources for a little headache, even if it felt like the top of his head would come off any second.

He struggled back into into his orange suit to go and work on his Power Armour for a bit. Keeping his hands busy usually helped to clear his head.

On his way to the Power Armour stations, Danse grabbed a Nuka Cola from the vending machine in the mess hall. He unscrewed the top, pocketing the cap, when he spotted Bryson and Maxson sitting alone at the end of a long table, engaged in what looked like animated conversation.

“Hey, you gonna drink that or shall I come back later? Other people are thirsty too, y’know.” A snotty, little voice complained from the vicinity of Danse’s elbow, bringing it to his attention that he had held the bottle halfway to his mouth for at least a full minute while he was busy staring.

He felt the hot flush of embarrassment creep into his cheeks before he growled, “Watch your tone, Initiate.” He had already raised his hand to cuff the little shit behind the ear when he stopped himself just in time.

 _“Ah fuck, I’m losing my mind,”_ he thought and ruffled the young girl’s short hair. She batted at his hand with a wrinkled nose and stuck her tongue out at him as he walked briskly to Ingram’s grease pit, pointedly ignoring the couple at the other end of the room.

He concentrated on tweaking joints on his T60 which had gotten rather stiff lately. The routine work certainly calmed his nerves. He even managed not to think about Arthur and Bryson for at least 20 minutes before he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye.

It was Arthur’s coat, drawing his attention. Although he and Bryson were walking casually down the stairs to the rec area, there seemed to be a certain forced nonchalance about them. As if they were trying very hard to be inconspicuous, like a chameleon deathclaw attempting stealth and about as effective, at least to the trained eye.

Danse wiped his hands on a rag and followed them at a distance. He descended to the lower level, seemingly lost in thought while he scanned his surroundings for his quarry.

The rec area appeared to be deserted at first. No-one came down here at this hour which was probably precisely why they had chosen this location. Arthur’s suggestion, no doubt. They wanted to be alone, and down here they were less likely to be interrupted than they would be in Maxson’s quarters where scribes and initiates came and went with messages and report updates.

Danse’s tired brain wondered why he was doing this, and more to the point, why was he getting more and more anxious to find...to find what exactly? A low, throaty sound drew his attention to the storage area at the far end of the room.

To find _that._  To find what he had known all along. Known but refused to acknowledge.

Danse could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He should go back. This was none of his business. So what if they had lied to him about...about…it didn’t concern him. Not really.

 _“But it is my business,”_ said a tiny voice inside Danse’s head. _“He has been my friend for years, my best friend, the most important person in my life. And he...I-”_

Danse quickly pressed himself against a tall shelf stacked with wooden storage crates when he spotted them. Carefully, he scooted along the aisle until he found a gap where he had a good view of Arthur’s face.

Maxson’s eyes were closed, head thrown back against the bulkhead, mouth open in a silent O. Danse felt his cock twitch at the sight. He couldn’t see Bryson but Maxson’s coat hung open and Arthur was clearly holding on to something in front of him.

No, not something. Someone.

Arthur moaned again as he looked down, watching whatever was happening at his feet. Danse couldn’t help himself, he pressed the palm of his hand over the growing bulge in his suit. Seeing Arthur so wanton, so open made him wish he could walk over there and - he didn’t dare finish the thought.

_“No. No, it’s not like that. It can’t be. We’re not...I’m not...”_

Whether it was shock or embarrassment, Danse couldn’t say, but he was absolutely unable to look away, not even when Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, head banging against the wall as a hoarse shout escaped his throat.

Danse didn’t know what was worse, knowing that he was spying on his best friend while he was getting a blow job, or getting turned on while doing so. Thank god for small favours, his own raging hard-on had subsided quickly after he managed to tear his eyes away from Maxson, and retreated further into the shadows.

Guilt, shame and anger churned inside Danse’s head as he waited for Arthur and Bryson to compose themselves and leave. Only then did he step out of the dark aisle. A part of him wanted to go over and see whether there was any evidence of what had happened here but he decided against it in the end and simply returned to the grease pit.

“Wow, who pissed into your Nuka Cola this morning?” Ingram asked when she spotted his face. He snapped his head around and glared at her with such force, she simply held up her hands and retreated with an, “Okay, okay, message received, Paladin.”

Everyone seemed to give Danse a wide berth for the rest of the morning after they got a look at his face or heard him curse at his Power Armour. Tools banged and clanked when he slammed them on the floor in frustration.

“Ah fuck!” Danse howled when the screwdriver slipped and lacerated the back of his hand. He sucked on the wound when two familiar boots appeared in his field of vision.

“Come on, let’s go see Cade,” Arthur commanded in a tone that brokered no argument.

Danse glared up at him, but obediently got onto his feet, still sucking on the wound as he trailed after Arthur to med bay. He was aware of eyes following their path but didn’t give a flying fuck at this point.

He huffed unhappily as he watched Arthur’s back. The worst part was he wasn’t even sure why he was so mad. All he knew was there seemed to be molten lava where his intestines should be and his heart hammered so loud it should drown out the Prydwen’s engines.

Danse wanted to hit something.

“Elder, how can I help?” Cade asked because Arthur had gone through the door first. Maxson pointed at Danse who held out his hand for medical inspection.

“I see. Doesn’t look too bad. Just sit down and I’ll patch you up, Paladin.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Arthur said.

“Of course,” Cade replied and turned his back on them to rummage in his supplies.

Suddenly, Arthur’s mouth was close to Danse’s ear. “Come to my quarters when you’re done. We need to talk.”


	5. Denial

Danse fiddled with the edge of the bandage on his way to Arthur’s quarters. Cade had insisted on a half-stimpak to stem infection but the skin needed patching up to avoid aggravating the still tender wound. 

If nothing else, it at least distracted Danse from the rising panic that had been clawing at him ever since Arthur had requested his presence. Fear had also dampened his rage, giving him ample time to get more anxious about the whole situation instead of just wanting to tear the world to pieces. 

Was Arthur still angry about yesterday? Had Bryson said something, if not about last night then this morning when he had been short with the man for waking him up? 

_ “Or...Oh shit - had Arthur seen him? Down below. Before.”  _

Danse hadn’t come to any conclusions yet how he felt about this whole Arthur/Elliot thing, mostly because the red-hot rage had gotten in the way so far, and he was most definitely not ready to talk about it. At least not with Arthur - especially not with Arthur.

He also knew he would never be prepared for a conversation about him spying on Arthur’s sex life. Danse was resolved to take this little secret to his grave. Which wasn’t lying, he told himself. It was simply not mentioning things he wasn’t supposed to know about in the first place. 

The door to the Elder’s quarters was wide open when Danse arrived. Maxson was sitting at his terminal with his back to the room. 

“You wanted to see me, sir?” asked Danse from the threshold. 

“Come in and close the door,” Maxson ordered without turning until the lock clicked into place. 

Danse’s mouth ran dry when the Elder got out of his chair and came closer with his hands behind his back. Danse tried to stand a bit more to attention, eyes fixed on the opposite wall. 

“I got a visit from Proctor Ingram about half-an-hour ago, telling me you were, and I’m quoting, “tearing up the place.” Care to tell me what’s going on, Paladin?”

_ “Ahhh.” _ Danse breathed a sigh of relief.  _ That _ he could definitely handle. 

“I ran into obstacles when I tried to make improvements to the joints of my T60. I may have used somewhat more colourful language to express my frustration. With your permission, I will go and apologise to the Proctor for any distress I may have caused.” 

“Hm,” Maxson clicked his tongue. “I got the impression it was more than just colourful language. Ingram is pretty thick skinned. She said you were throwing things around and you threatened her - with a look.” 

_ “Has it really been this bad?”  _ Danse wondered before he took a deep breath and repeated his offer to apologise to Ingram. Arthur was standing so close, Danse could smell the pomade he used for his hair and a hint of toothpaste underneath the leather and steel. 

The scents reminded him of the good, old days when he could just walk into Arthur’s quarters, play games and make bad joke about good whiskey. Back when they had been just friends. Back when he didn’t have to think about another man’s lips on Arthur’s neck, leaving possessive marks. Or on his cock, coaxing sounds from his throat that no-one else had any right to hear. 

_ “I need to get out of here!”  _ Danse screamed inside his own head, eyes glued to the Brotherhood flag above Maxson’s terminal. 

“Look at me, Danse.” 

For some reason it had never been harder to obey an order. 

“Danse - look at me!” 

“I...yes, sir.” He slowly turned his head and felt as if his heart had dropped out of his chest. 

Arthur was looking at him - and it was Arthur now, not the Elder - and he was concerned. Steel blue eyes were searching for an answer, for the truth. Danse could tell Arthur sensed there was more to his outburst, simply because he knew him so well - better than anyone. 

But Danse had no idea what the truth was, so whatever he was going to say would be a lie which was why he decided to just shake his head. Arthur took another step closer and -  _ oh gods _ \- put his hand on Danse’s shoulder. It was warm and heavy and Danse wanted nothing more than to run out of the door behind him. 

Arthur sighed, “Please, tell me what’s bothering you. We’ve been friends for so long, and even if we haven’t seen each other in a few months, I hope we still are.” 

“Yes, of course. I’ll always be your friend,” which was an easy enough truth to admit. “But I’m honestly not sure what’s wrong with me.” That was not a lie. He really didn’t know, not exactly. 

_ “Oh no, please don’t come closer,”  _ Danse begged in the privacy of his own head as Arthur reached with both hands for Danse’s upper arms and gave them a squeeze. 

“I can tell you are upset and it's affecting your work. That's why the Elder needs to know. But I'm not asking as your CO now, I'm asking as your friend.” 

Danse bit the inside of his cheeks, Arthur’s hands were soothingly stroking him. He wanted to scream, or run, or reach out and pull him into his arms and never let go. 

Fuck - he had to get away. This was...He was... and Arthur...

Danse took a step backwards, leaving Maxson standing with his hands holding empty air. He pretended not to notice the hurt expression in Arthur’s eyes. 

“With your permission, I overheard a report while Cade stitched me up. Super Mutants have shot down two of our birds near Saugus Ironworks. I’d like to go and investigate. I think kicking Mutant ass might be exactly what I need at this point.”   

Arthur slowly lowered his arms. Danse could practically watch the Elder emerge, clearing his throat and clasping his hands behind his back. “Very well, if you think it will help, and it certainly needs doing.”  

“Thank you, sir, and I’ll go and apologise to Ingram as well.” 

“See that you do. Take Bryson with you when you head out, he needs more field experience.”

Danse hesitated for a second. Maxson noticed. “Do you have a problem with that order?”

“Uhm, no. I was just…” Danse licked his lips. “I’ll go get him. We’ll be off in an hour.”

“When you find him, send him here first. I have something to discuss with him before you leave.”

Danse hesitated again. The red-hot anger came charging to the front from behind the anxiety it had been hiding behind, waving a laser rifle and growling at the thought of Bryson and Arthur alone in this room together.

Maxson’s eyes narrowed. “Danse, do you have a problem with Knight Bryson? I mean, personally?”

“Absolutely not, sir.” 

Yes,  _ that _ had been a lie. 

But one that apparently went undetected because after a moment’s hesitation Arthur gave a brief nod, “Alright. Dismissed.” 

Danse saluted and prepared to leave, but before he could open the door Arthur called, “Danse?”

He turned his head. “Yes?”

“When you get back, come and find me - no matter the time - and we’ll have that chess match we keep putting off.”

“I would like that,” Danse replied and managed a tiny smile that mirrored Arthur’s own before he gladly fled the room and the confusing presence of Arthur Maxson.

Somehow in the past 48 hours, Danse’s life had gotten a whole lot more complicated than it had any right to be. 

He suspected there was probably a big kaboom lurking in his future. 


	6. Fiat Lux

Danse and Bryson quickly found the Super Mutant hideout. The green giants weren’t exactly known for their subtlety. It had been easy enough to follow the trail of blood and body parts which the green abominations apparently regarded as an important architectural design feature. The raider group who had previously occupied the junk yard were now centrepieces, strategically placed around the area to appeal to Super Mutant aesthetics.

Danse’s nose wrinkled in disgust when Bryson gave one of the fleshy sacks a kick, spilling blood and viscera onto the ground. These monsters couldn’t go extinct soon enough.

Danse noted with grim satisfaction he had been right about going on this mission to get some of the pent up anger and anxiety out of his system. His mind focused like a laser when one after another Super Mutant dropped dead at his feet, blocking out all other concerns and leaving no room for doubt or anxiety. Not even Bryson's company could put a damper on the simple joy of being boots on the ground.

After twenty minutes of intense fighting, only the leader of the Mutant pack was left, but he had holed himself into a sweet spot from which he could deal devastating damage with his rocket launcher. Thankfully, he was a lousy shot.

“We need a distraction,” Bryson hissed.

“Agreed. Get out of your Power Armour, Knight!”

“What? Are you crazy? If you want me dead, Paladin, do me a favour and pull the trigger yourself!” Bryson barked back.

Underneath his helmet, Danse clenched his jaw, wondering whether the vault dweller was bang on the caps.

Did he want him dead?

“No, I don’t want you dead, I want you to sneak up there with a stealth boy and take the fucker out while I draw his fire.”

“Oh! Good plan,” Bryson conceded, giving Danse a thumb’s up.

He knew the other man couldn’t see him but Danse rolled his eyes at him anyway. He watched Elliot get out of his Power Armour while the Super Mutant bellowed and blindly fired another missile into their general direction.

Bryson spun his serrated blade in his hand and nodded, “I’m ready.”

“Go!” Danse commanded and watched the Knight vanish when he activated his stealth boy.

“AD VICTORIAM”

Danse ran out of the shack and opened fire. It was easy enough to dodge the incoming missiles until he heard the monster howl in pain and all went quiet.

“Tango down!” Bryson called and stepped out into the open. He was wiping his blade on his thigh as he walked back down the narrow plank to the shack where he had left his Power Armour. The Paladin followed his progress by looking at him along the length of his rifle.

 _“It would be so easy,”_ Danse thought. _“A clear shot. I can hear Arthur read the eulogy: a credit to the Brotherhood, gone before his prime, hadn’t known him long enough etcetera._

_“No, I can’t! God, listen to yourself. I’d never be able to look at myself in the mirror again. And Arthur would almost certainly kill me if he found out, and I’m not sure I’d stop him. What the fuck is wrong with me?”_

He clipped his laser rifle back onto his thigh and marched toward the other man who was climbing back into his T60. Bryson turned to him, holding his helmet, and hesitated.

“It’s still light enough to call a bird. You could head back to the Prydwen and report in.”

Danse took his own helmet off. “Don’t you mean “ _we”_?”

Bryson shook his head, “Nah. I’ve got some folks around the corner I wanna check in on. I’ll be back later.”

“I don’t recall giving you permission to abandon your post, Knight!” Danse retorted a bit more vehemently than necessary.

Bryson attempted to shrug which always looked comical in Power Armour. “You don’t have to. I already got it from Maxson.”

Danse’s eyebrows rose. “Well, if the Elder approved your detour, it is no concern of mine. It's just…”

“Just what?” Elliot regarded him with narrowed eyes.

Danse licked his lips and tried to look disinterest by pretending to shake a bit of nonexistent muck off his metal boot when he said “I’d have thought you’d be keen to get back to the ship as soon as possible.”

Bryson gave him a sharp look. “Oh yeah, why is that?”

“Forget it!” Danse replied quickly. He could feel his cheeks heating up.

“No, no, come one! I know you. You wouldn’t have said that just for the hell of it. So, why do you think I wanna get back? It’s not like I have anyone waiting in my bunk, ya’ know.”

“You d... uhm - I said forget it!” Danse growled back, quickly putting his helmet back on. The valves hissed when it clicked into place, drowning out half of Bryson’s retort.

“-the Elder?”

“What?”

Bryson adjusted his stance, metal joints squeaking. “You know, when you told me about Maxson before - how great he is and all that - I thought you were just spouting propaganda. But then I walk onto the command deck and come face to face with the second most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in my entire life. And he’s just standing there, giving a speech. And that voice. Oh god!”

Danse wanted to yell at Bryson to shut the fuck up. Or as a close second grab that ridiculous pony tail of his and drag him like a mongrel puppy to the river and drown him. But maybe Danse had a hitherto undetected masochistic streak, or perhaps he really was curious, but whatever it was, it made him stand stock still and listen to Bryson’s tale of how he had gotten Arthur Maxson to pucker up.

“He turned me down first, can you believe it? Said he had feelings for someone else - apparently one-sided, though. So I offered to help him out. How better to forget your heartache than to chase it out of your cold bed with a warm body, hn?”

If it hadn’t been for the reinforced and newly tweaked joints, Danse knew his knees would have buckled at this point. He felt light-headed and his heart seemed to be determined to hammer itself through his ribcage.

 _“It can’t be!”_ Danse thought. _“But there isn’t anyone else in his life, you know that. But, it can’t be!”_

Suddenly, the helmet was too stifling. Danse had to take it off again which meant he, once more, missed part of the story.

“-if you know what I mean.”

Danse panted and just stared at Bryson when he replied, “No, I don’t.”

Elliot frowned. “Huh?”

“I don’t know what you mean!”

“You don’t know- For god’s sake, you really do need things spelled out for you, don’t ya? I didn’t fuck him, is what I’m saying,” Bryson stated so bluntly, Danse felt himself blush all the way to the roots of his scalp.

“This is none of my business. Why are you even telling me all this? I mean I’m not...this isn’t something...Why...,” Danse stammered while his brain went into overdrive.

Bryson squinted at him, “Are you absolutely certain this doesn’t concern you?”

“Oh, I’m dead sure I don’t care who you’re sucking off in your spare time as long as-”

“How do you know-?” Bryson began before he started to smirk. “Ooooh!”

“What?” Danse didn’t like where this was going. He could feel the anger rise again but it had strong competition from the panic faction which by now occupied most of his conscious thought processes. There was a small war going on behind his furrowed brow which eventually ended with, _“I could still kill him, no-one would ever know!”_ Danse’s hand automatically touched the butt of his rifle.

But Bryson just shook his head and said, “Nothing, nothing. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now because he broke up with me. Well, if you can call a few kisses and, as you uncannily guessed, a blowjob a relationship.”

Danse’s mouth dropped open. His brain tried to scramble an appropriate response together, but all it could come up with was - “What?” - again.

“I reported to him before we left, thought he might want a quickie before I head out. Well, imagine my surprise when he told me, he had changed his mind about us. Apparently, between breakfast and lunch, he had realised he was still too much in love with this other person - even if they didn’t return his affections.”

Bryson’s face was a picture of compassion, “Poor guy! I told him it didn’t have to mean anything and I was just trying to help, but he said it wasn’t fair, and - get this - he felt like he was cheating.”

Danse took a couple of steps backwards, the helmet slipping from suddenly nerveless fingers. It landed with a dull clank on the floor.

Bryson was giving im a shrewd look. “And it _is_ a man he is in love with, he told me that much at least.”

For the first time in his life, Danse felt as if he was going to faint. His head was spinning, blood roaring in his ears.

_“Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick.”_

“Easy,” Bryson was suddenly next to him, holding his arm. “You okay, Danse?”

“Uhm, I’m not feeling so good.”

Elliot was steadying him with a look of genuine concern. “Is the thought of Maxson with another man that appalling to you?”

Danse head snapped up, “What? No! Fuck… no, it’s not…”

“Then what is it?”

Everything that had happened in the past two days suddenly clicked into place. The anger, the confusion, Arthur! - _“I really missed you”_ \- oh god, of course. It all made perfect sense now because-

“I love him. I love Arthur!”

Danse looked at Bryson, amazed at himself. He said it again, just to make sure he had gotten it right, but it was just as true the second time around. All of a sudden, he felt much better, lighter, maybe he could just float to the Prydwen and spare the Vertibird pilot the trouble.

Elliot patted him on the shoulder and let go with a gentle shove. “Yeah, I know you do. And I’m pretty sure he loves you too.”

“I...I think you might be right.” The thought still too big to feel real, but it brought a small smile to Danse’s face nevertheless.

“I’m not good with emotions,” he added and frowned when Bryson sniggered at him. Danse hit him on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, man. No hard feelings, okay? I mean, we’re cool, aren’t we?”

Danse nodded. “We are. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather go exterminating Super Mutants with. But, are you going to be alright? Even if he and I...” The thought made something in Danse’s brain go fizz and pop like fireworks. He could practically feel his face contort itself into a stupid, _besotted_ grin.

Bryson snorted. “I’m fine. Don’t you worry about me. Now, isn’t there somewhere else you’d rather be?”

Danse smile widened. “Yes. Yes, I believe there is.”

They stepped outside the shack, carrying their helmets under their arms. The sun was almost setting. Danse quickly tossed one of the signal grenades and kept his eyes on the horizon. It didn’t take long before he could spot the Vertibird answering his hail.

“Hey Bryson, I don’t even know why I’m asking this, but, Arthur _is_ handsome. So who’s the best looking man you’ve ever met? He must be something.”

A slow grin spread over Elliot’s features. “Oh yes! Yes, he is drop-dead gorgeous. But, unfortunately, all attempts to flirt with him go right over his head. It’s tragic really.”

“Uh-hn.” Danse replied thoughtfully. “Well, for what it’s worth, if he’s still around, I wish you good luck with- What’s so funny?”

Danse frowned at the other man who was laughing so hard, he gave himself hiccups.

“I’m good,” Bryson gulped and waved at Danse to get a move on.

“Elliot!”

“Hm?”

“Thanks.”

“No worries, now off you go.”

Danse saluted and climbed into the Vertibird that would take him home where someone was hopefully waiting for him.


	7. Face Thy Fears

During the flight home, Danse tried to come up with a strategy to relay to Arthur how he felt and where he might want to progress their relationship from here. A big stumbling block was not having the faintest idea how to have a romantic relationship in the first place. Nevermind that so far he only had Bryson’s word that Arthur felt the same way about him, everything else was just guesswork. 

_ “What if I’m wrong?”  _

Danse could feel his heart rate elevating again and he started to perspire. He had never been in love before which was probably why it had taken so long to diagnose the symptoms. 

_ “Diagnose the symptoms?”  _ Danse rolled his eyes at himself.  _ “I sound like Cade looking at a rad-rash.”  _

“Roger that. Ready to dock!” 

The voice of the pilot interrupted Danse’s thoughts. He tried to swallow, only to find his mouth had dried up. Whatever was meant to happen between Arthur and him, would happen now. The docking clamp snapped shut with a loud clank, jostling the bird a bit which had to be the reason why Danse felt a bit wobbly when he jumped out. 

He took a deep, calming breath which worked for maybe ten seconds before the door to the command deck opened and Arthur Maxson walked down the stairs and onto the deck with long, confident strides. 

_ “I’m nervous,”  _ Danse thought.  _ “Why am I so nervous? It’s Arthur. Yes, exactly! There is a lot at stake here.”  _

Maxson smiled when he spotted him. “Danse, this is an unexpected surprise. Since you appear to be in one piece and not exactly the worse for wear, I trust the mission went well?”

Danse took his helmet off and saluted on autopilot. “Mission accomplished, sir. However-” Arthur looked at him expectantly and the words died in his throat. 

Danse tried to remember what he had wanted to ask but all he could think was,  _ “Why have I never noticed before how blue your eyes are?” _

Maxson began to frown, “Are you okay? You look a bit shaken.”

“Outstanding,” Danse heard himself reply, his voice sounding far away and thin. 

Arthur squinted at him. “Are you certain? Give me an honest reply, Paladin, how are you feeling?”

_ “Uncomfortable, unhygienic and unapologetically in love with you - oh god, it’s true!”  _ Danse thought in amazement but he said, “I assure you I’m fine. But-”

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him. “Well?”

Danse licked his lips and managed, “May I talk to you in private?” 

There must have been something in his voice or maybe his face because Arthur hesitated and stared at him for a few seconds before his shoulders sagged a little, “I’m sorry, but I need to take care of things at the airport in person.”

Before the disappointment could register on Danse’s face, Arthur added, “But, I’ll be back later tonight. Come to my quarters at 2300, and we’ll talk. And if you want, we can have that chess match we’ve been putting off.” 

“Yes, sir,” Danse nodded. Part of him was urging him to grab Arthur by the collar and drag him inside to kiss him stupid whereas another - much larger part - breathed a tiny sigh of relief. 

Maybe a few hours to clean his head, and hair, and everything else would help him come up with a better plan than “ _ grab ‘im and at ‘im _ ”. He certainly hoped so. This was his best friend and he certainly deserved better. 

Danse watched Maxson walk to a waiting Vertibird. Hands already on the rail, Arthur looked back at him over his shoulder and gave him a tiny smile before he pulled himself up and on board. The bird dropped a few seconds later, carrying the Elder to the ground. 

With a deep sigh, Danse marched inside to make himself presentable, thinking about a smile and blue eyes the whole time. 

*~*

“Huh?” Danse sat bolt upright in his bunk. The room was dark. 

_ “Fuck - what time is it?”  _

He scrambled out of bed and turned the lights on before he squinted at the clock with sleepy eyes. 

2am.

“Fuck!” 

“FUCK!”

After cleaning his Power Armour, dinner, and the very thorough shower, Danse had gone back to his room. He had dressed in slacks and t-shirt and then stretched out on his bunk.

_ “Just five minutes,” _ he had thought to himself. 

It had been 9pm which meant, by then, he had gone on two missions within 40 hours on three hours sleep. Not to mention the sheer mental exhaustion from realising he was in love. 

He had been fast asleep within seconds.

_ “What must he think of me now?” _ Danse clutched his hair and pulled until his scalp stung - a part of him now perversely pleased he still had not gone to get it cut.  

_ “Is he even back? Fuck, what should I do?” _

The only person he knew who had any experience in romantic endeavours was Elliot Bryson. 

_ “What would Bryson do?” _

Images of the scene in the rec room popped into his head. 

_ “Not helpful!” _ He growled at his brain.  _ “Not Elliot, but...what would Arthur do?”  _

_ “Face your enemy, Paladin!”  _ Danse heard Maxson’s voice clear as a bell. 

He swallowed hard. “Okay.” 

Danse smoothed his hair and shirt down, and pulled his slacks up. He looked at his boots and decided not to bother. 

Barefooted and more scared than he had ever felt in his life, Paladin Danse of the Brotherhood of Steel opened his door and walked across the deserted corridor. 

He paused in front of the Elder’s quarters, hand raised before he lowered it slowly, and without knocking, tried the handle. 

The door swung open. 


	8. The Big Kaboom

The room was dark, save for the emergency lights, and smelled faintly of steel and bourbon. One glance into the direction of Arthur’s bed confirmed he was here. The Elder had his back turned to the room and was faintly snoring.

Danse took a deep breath and cautiously tiptoed inside. He closed the door behind him, and winced as the lock clicked into place. Amazingly, Arthur remained asleep.

Danse’s eyes quickly adjusted to the gloom. A glass had toppled over, leaving a small, sticky puddle on the table which a careful sniff identified as the source of the bourbon aroma. Was that why Arthur was still asleep?

 _“How much did you drink?”_ Danse wondered. He picked up the bottle and peered at it. It was still half full. He put it back and noticed the second glass next to the...

Danse’s heart clenched when he saw the chess board. It was ready. White was on the side of the empty chair Danse would have occupied had he not slept through their appointment.

Maxson knew Danse preferred the advantage of making the first move in a game, which was why Arthur almost always played black. He observed his opponent with seemingly infinite patience before he would grin that smug grin of his and then checkmate Danse in five moves or less.

Danse wondered whether it said something strange about him that he loved this bit most of all. When the corner’s of Arthur’s mouth turned up, giving him that look which said, “Gotcha!”

_“And you do have me. Heart and mind, and if you let me, my body as well.”_

A lump seemed to crawl up Danse’s throat when he imagined Arthur sitting here, waiting - “ _Hoping?” -_ And then finally giving up. All of this riding on the notion that Maxson did indeed have feelings for him.

_“I’m such an idiot!”_

His eyes automatically darted to the sleeping man.

 _“What am I to you?”_ Danse wondered, barely noticing his feet moving out of their own accord until he stood in front of the bed.

_“If I wake you now, are you going to be happy to see me? Are you going to be mad at me? What if I tell you...and you..uhm.”_

Danse flinched when Maxson suddenly turned over in his sleep. The covers slipped down, hugging Arthur’s hips, while his shirt rode up, exposing a well defined stomach. A small trail of hair lead from below the navel down to where it disappeared under the elastic of Arthur’s boxers.

Danse bit his lower lip. He tried telling himself that ogling his sleeping best friend wasn’t creepy behaviour. It was only weird if the other party didn’t want him to, which was, of course, part of the bigger problem whether Arthur even returned his feelings.

He was struck by how the events of the last 48 hours had all come around in a circle: a man sneaking into his best friend’s room in the middle of the night to tell him something important, something personal, something intimate. Danse clenched and unclenched his sweaty hands.

_“Maybe a drink for courage? Gods, I get it now Arthur.”_

He padded over to the table and quietly filled the glass which would have been his a few hours ago. He welcomed the first sting of the alcohol followed by the soothing warmth quickly flooding his body. He smacked his lips and put the glass down.

_“I still don’t know what to do. But I feel warmer now. Gods, what am I supposed to do?”_

Desperate for inspiration, Danse glanced around until his eyes found the chessboard again.

_“Make the first move. Is that it? Are you waiting to see what I will do?”_

Before he could second guess himself, Danse walked back to the bed and leaned down. He licked his lips, unsure what to expect. Arthur’s eyes snapped open, his head jerking upward in surprise.

The crack of two thick skulls smacking together echoed through the darkness, followed by swearing that would have put a drill sergeant to shame.

Between curses Arthur fumbled with one hand for the light switch, the other hand pressed against his forehead.

“Danse?”

“Uhhh...”

“Oh shit, wait there. No, sit on the bed.”

Danse did as he was told while pinching his bleeding nose.

 _“That went well,”_ he thought, sarcasm dripping off every syllable. His eyes were tearing up. There was hardly anything like getting headbutted in the nose by a friend who seemed to have bones of steel.  

Arthur returned from his private bathroom with a rag, dripping cold water all over the floor.

“Here,” he said and handed it to Danse who folded it neatly before pressing it against his aching face. Thankfully, the bleeding had already stopped.

“Are you okay?” Arthur looked down at him.

Danse glanced past the rag and nodded.

“Shit. I’m sorry. What time is it?” Arthur looked at the clock and chuckled. “Well, I did say it wouldn’t matter, didn’t I?”

“I’m sorry. Uhhhh-” Danse groaned as the cold cloth started to numb the pain.

“Don’t be, I’m glad to see you,” Arthur replied while pouring them both a shot of bourbon.

He handed one glass to Danse who took it, eager to chase away the taste of blood.

“When you didn’t show up, I thought... well, I figured you had a good reason.” Arthur put his and Danse’s glass back on the table.

Danse nodded, “I fell asleep, and I am sorry. I really wanted to see you but-”

“Don’t worry about it, you are here now.”

“But-”

“Danse,” Arthur gave him a look that made Danse’s stomach drop. “I said no problem. Now let me see.”

“No, it’s fine,” Danse sniffed but Arthur batted his hands away and took the rag before throwing it on the floor.

“Arthur, is that necessary?” Danse clicked his tongue, locking at where the soggy piece of cloth had landed.

His eyes went wide when he felt Arthur’s hand on his chin, forcing his head back so that Maxson could inspect the damage.

All protest left him in an instant. Arthur’s face was so close, all it would take would be a little tug and-

“You’ll be fine. Might not even bruise. Shall we have that match now?”

Danse just shook his head.

“No?”

As if in trance, he reached up, his fist bunching the front of Arthur’s shirt who looked at him in surprise.

He wasn’t pulling yet. There was plenty of room to stop this. If he was wrong, then all Arthur had to do was step back, or brush him aside, or tell him to get out.

_“Please don’t let me be wrong.”_

They stared at each other until Danse mumbled, “Not here to play games.”

In the end, it was Arthur who moved first, crushing their mouth together. When Danse gasped into the kiss, Arthur’s tongue swept between his lips. He leaned forward, pushing Danse onto the bed, and crawled on top of him without breaking the kiss.

They moaned when Arthur nestled between Danse’s legs, pressing their groins together. Both men bucked, eager for more friction while Danse allowed Arthur to taste every corner of his mouth, greedy and hungry.

“Ouch-” Arthur had inadvertently pushed a bit too hard against Danse’s nose.

“...sorry.”

“You have a thick skull,” Danse chuckled, squinting his eyes to shake off the stinging sensation.

Arthur’s thumb was brushing over Danse’s flushed lower lip while his other hand combed through the dark strands of his hair.

“I’m an idiot,” Danse sighed, looking up at Arthur.

He had wormed his hands under the back of Arthur’s shirt, fingers trailing up and down the broad back, occasionally finding scars he had not known were there, like so many things he didn’t know about Arthur despite their friendship. He made a silent promise to himself to discover them all and if it would take a lifetime.

Arthur smiled. “No. Not an idiot. A bit dense perhaps, but not completely hopeless.” He emphasised the statement with a roll of his hips, brushing their half-hard cocks together through the layers of clothing before initiating another kiss.

When they came up for air, Danse asked, “Mmmmh, when did you know?”

“That I’m in love with you?”

Danse mouth parted in a silent gasp. It was one thing to know, but it was an entirely different thing to hear it. Something in his chest began to flutter.

“You are?”

“Now, you’re being an idiot,” Arthur teased.

“I’m sorry. I’m not good with emotions. You’ll have to be patient with me,” Danse pleaded.

“I have been patient with you, don’t you think?” Arthur raised an eye-brow.

“I suppose so,” Danse conceded. Given how long it had taken him to understand what was going on, it was a small miracle he had gotten this far in the first place.

Suddenly, images of Arthur in the rec room, flushed, head thrown back while another man sucked his cock bubbled up in Danse’s mind.

 _“Not all that patient maybe?”_ he thought.

Something in his face must have given it away because Arthur looked to the side and said, “You know about me and Bryson, don’t you?”

Danse nodded and shrugged which was a bit awkward in his current position. He kept stroking soothing circles on Arthur’s back when he said, “I think I understand.”

Arthur looked at him again. "Really?" 

“I’m not saying I’m happy about it but- uhm,” Danse felt foolish.

At the time Arthur had had no idea about his feelings, so finding someone else was a perfectly logical reaction. And it was fine. Mostly fine. Well no, it made him angry, but not at Arthur, mostly at himself for not having understood his own emotions sooner.

“To answer your question, I didn’t realise what I felt for you until after you were gone,” Arthur explained. “Days went by and I missed you more and more, and I knew it wasn’t wanting to be with my best friend. I wanted to be with you like we are now.”

“You went to the gym a lot, didn’t you?”

“You noticed?” Arthur waggled his eyebrows.

“Maybe a little,” Danse grinned.

“Not so dense after all, hn? And do you like what you see?”

Instead of a reply, Danse bucked his hips, eliciting a moan from Arthur. They kissed again, this time more mindful of Danse’s sore nose.

“I broke it off with Bryson... because I felt like I was... being unfaithful. To you.” Arthur confessed between kisses.

“But...you didn’t even know that I’m feeling the same way about you.”

Arthur stopped and looked into his eyes. “I do now.”

They grinned and bumped their foreheads together.

“So, what comes next?” Danse asked.

“That depends, would you like to get out of these clothes?” Arthur tugged on the collar of Danse’s shirt.

“Uhm...yes?”

Arthur stopped and narrowed his eyes. He was worrying his lower lip.

After what seemed like a long minute, he asked, “There is no tactful way to ask this, but, have you had...intimate...relationships before?”

“I’ve had...sex,” Danse admitted somewhat hesitantly.

“With?”

“People.”

“Oh good,” Arthur replied faintly like a man who knew he was standing on thin ice but had no other choice except to go onwards. “I mean...you mean, you’ve slept with other human beings, is that what you’re saying?”

“Of course, anything else would be a perversion,” Danse frowned. “For the record, I’ve had sexual contact with three men. Two of them were hook-ups in the field, I believe the technical term is one-night stand. And the other one, eh-”

Danse felt the blush from his toes to his scalp. He closed his eyes and said. “The third man was a sex worker. My friend had bought him for me as a present to...to “pop my cherry” he called it. And, well, I kept visiting the prostitute a few more times after that. I stopped after joining the Brotherhood of course.”

“Are you by any chance as uncomfortable about this conversation as I am?” Arthur asked, face deadpan.

“Absolutely,” Danse nodded, “but I don’t see how we can stop now. How many- I mean what about you? I’ve never seen you with anyone, or even heard anyone mention anything. Well, apart from you know who.”

Arthur squirmed a bit before he sat up, straddling Danse’s hips.

He sighed. “Five. Four men, one woman.”

Danse just accepted this as fact, although he had to admit he was dead curious how on earth Arthur had managed to keep this a secret. Without further ado, he sat up and stripped off his shirt, looking up at Arthur whose mouth had gone slack.

“A little help?” Danse pulled on the belt loops of his pants.

“You just-”

Danse couldn’t quite figure out why Arthur was looking at him like that. He cocked his head. “You _did_ ask whether I wanted to take my clothes off.”

Arthur nodded. “Yes. I just hadn’t expected you to be so. Well, I suppose, so forthright about it.”

“Why not? We have established we feel the same way about each other and want to progress by including more intimate-”

Arthur surged forward and kissed the rest of the explanation out if his mouth.

“More intimate. Yes. Good.” Arthur whispered against his lips before he scooted back and helped Danse shimmy out of his slacks which swiftly joined the shirt on the floor. Wtithout breaking eye contact, Danse hooked his thumbs under the elastic of his underwear and pulled them down.

“Fuck!” Arthur exclaimed when Danse’s cock sprang free, hard and flushed. He quickly jumped out of bed to rip his own clothes off.

At the sight of Arthur’s cock, all the blood in Danse's body seemed to rush into his dick. He gave it a few tugs, all the while watching his friend watching him. Arthur climbed back onto the bed. They both knelt on the mattress.

“Touch me,” Arthur commanded and made a noise between a whine and a gasp when Danse reached out and began to stroke him.

“Yeah, like that,” Arthur groaned, his hips rocking into the motion.

_“Five other people got to see you like this, Arthur? Five! I fucking hate that.”_

“Tell me where Bryson touched you,” Danse whispered.

Arthur hesitated for the fraction of a second before he raised his hand and pointed at his mouth. Danse leaned forward and pressed his lips to Arthur’s, licking along the seam until they parted for him. He flicked the tip of his tongue inside before he pulled back.

“I think I can guess where else,” Danse murmured and fastened his lips to the fading bruise on Arthur’s neck and sucked until Arthur hissed, his hands holding on to Danse's shoulders.

“Ahh, fuck,” Arthur cursed when Danse finally let go and admired his work, tongue still lapping at the renewed and now much larger bruise. He stopped stroking Arthur to pull him flush against him by grabbing his ass and giving it a possessive squeeze.

“Danse!” Arthur gasped.

“Hm?” Danse raised his head.

“Oh no, I was just- you know.”

“Oh. Nice.”

Arthur snorted.

“I like it when you say my name,” Danse confessed.

“Do you now?”

“Uh-hm,” Danse smiled and bent his head to tongue along the outline of Arthur’s collar bone.

“Shall I tell you where else he kissed me?” Arthur panted.

Danse glanced up at him. He knew of course and he had sworn not to ever tell Arthur but on the other hand he didn’t want to start their new relationship with a lie.

Instead of a reply he wormed his hand in between their bodies and began to jerk Arthur off again with firm, long strokes while looking into the blue eyes.

“You...ah fuck...you know?”

Danse gave a brief nod. Arthur’s hand fisted in his hair before he crushed their mouth together again. The kiss was savage, more teeth than tongue. Arthur bit into Danse’s lower lip as he pulled back.

“I watched you from the shadows,” Danse rasped.

“You were there?” Arthur’s mouth hung open, Danse was still stroking him.

“Yeah. You were all wanton and flushed like you’re now.”

Arthur was just staring at him, offering no resistance when Danse pushed him backward onto the bed until he could hover above him.

“Fuck, you were amazing. And you were making those sounds. I want to hear them again. But this time, this time - for me.”

With one last look at the beautiful man beneath him, Danse grasped the root of Arthur’s cock in his fist and sucked it into his mouth.

Arthur cursed, both hands sliding into Danse’s hair and pulling. The not quite pain seemed to go straight to Danse’s cock.

 _“I’ll never get it cut,”_ Danse thought, moaning around the hard flesh in his mouth. He bobbed his head, listening to Arthur, knowing it was _him_ bringing his friend to the edge. Every sigh, every curse, every sound was because of him, and Danse loved it. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” Arthur groaned which turned into a mewl when Danse let the cock slip from his mouth and squeezed the root.

“What are you-” 

“Just a little trick,” Danse explained matter of factly as he watched Arthur struggle. It may have been a while but, in the end, he had been initiated into sex by a prostitute who had shown him a few things. 

Again, Arthur seemed to have read his mind, “Exactly how often did you visit that whore?”

Danse kept the pressure on until he was sure it was okay to let go before he spat into his hand and slowly jerked Arthur off again with long, slow strokes.

“Ahhhh!” Arthur’s head dropped back. He was biting his lower lip, hips trying to buck into Danse’s fist.

“Just over a year,” he admitted.

Arthur’s head snapped back up. “A year?”

Danse nodded. “I think I was what you might call a regular.”

Arthur sat up, forcing Danse to let go of his dick, and pushed the other man onto the bed before he straddled him and grabbed Danse’s wrist, pinning him to the bed.

“A whole bloody year? He must have been very good.”

Danse nodded again. “Yes, I have to admit it was a very pleasant arrangement.”

His eyes went wide because as soon as the words had let his mouth, Arthur growled, “You have some nerve, soldier!”

“I don’t follow. You just told me you had sex with five people. I don’t see the difference really.”

“You really don’t, don’t you? Danse, I’m of a mind to fly the Prydwen south to Rivet City and level every fucking whore house to the ground until that bastard is dead. Dead, you hear me? Don’t ever tell me the names of the - what did you call them? - hook-ups! I might not be able to resist the temptation to send them on some really war critical missions.”

“Are you- You’re jealous?”

“And that coming from a man who just marked me as his property where everyone will see it. I might have to wear a scarf if that hickey is even half the size I think it is now.”

Danse’s dick pulsed against the crack of Arthur’s ass. The blue eyes above him seemed to lose focus as Arthur began to rub against him. 

“Danse-” His name sounded like a plea.

“Do you have any slick?”

“Yeah, top drawer,” Arthur let go of Danse’s wrist and fumbled for the lubricant.

“That’s convenient,” Danse observed.

Arthur unscrewed the lid and tossed it over his shoulder. He coated two of fingers in the petroleum jelly before he reached behind himself and began to work the digits into his tight ass.

Danse began to jerk Arthur off again while he watched in fascination how the lines on Arthur’s face creased in concentration as he slowly fucked himself.

“Have you done this before?”

Arthur’s eyes snapped open, “Yes. By myself.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“Fuck Danse, if you talk dirty now-”

“Tell me!”

“I...fuck...I thought of you. Here with me. Like we are now.”

“And?”

Arthur swallowed. “I was thinking of your cock sliding into me. I was thinking of you fucking me every god damn time I was jerking off.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Fuck yes!”

Danse felt precum dripping down his dick. Arthur fucking himself was the hottest thing he had ever seen but knowing he had done this before while thinking of him, made him want to throw Arthur onto the mattress and fuck him through it.

“I’m gonna come-”

“Not yet!” Danse growled, repeating what he had done before. Arthur stared down at him, eyes now almost black with lust, mouth hanging open in a silent O.

 _"But this time, it's my doing!"_ Danse thought proudly. He reached around to grab Arthur’s wrist, stopping him from fucking his own fingers.

“I want to fuck you so badly, can you feel it?” He emphasised his words by brushing his cock against Arthur’s ass. He could still feel him struggle, the cock in his hand was throbbing but he kept a firm hold on the base to keep him from coming.

“I was so fucking stupid,” he leaned forward and fastened his mouth over Arthur’s right nipple, sucking and pulling it gently with his teeth until it was a hard pebble. He repeated the pattern on the other side all the while Arthur squirmed in his hold, still fighting the urge to come.

“Fuck me,” Arthur pleaded.

Danse looked up at him. “How do you want it?”

“On my back, I want to see your face.”

They waited until Arthur had himself under control and then scooted around until Maxson was lying on the mattress, his pillow tucked underneath his ass to raise it up.

Danse coated his dick with the slick. “Hold yourself open for me.”

He watched Arthur grab the back of his knees and spread his legs like a whore.

 _“Only this is better because I love you,”_ Danse thought as he set the head of his cock against Arthur’s entrance.

“Ready?”

“Do it!”

Despite the preparation, Arthur was still tight. Danse rocked into him with slow, tiny motions and little by little the flesh gave until he was all the way inside. He held still, trying to give Arthur time to adjust, but when Arthur squeezed around him, Danse whined, head falling forward into the crook Arthur’s neck as he whispered, “I can’t wait any longer,” and began to move.

He tried to make it last, fucking Arthur with slow thrusts, almost pulling out all the way. But knowing it was Arthur Maxson coming undone beneath him, making those sounds, calling his name, made it impossible. 

“Harder!” Arthur demanded, fist wrapped around his cock, jerking himself off in time with the movements of Danse’s hips.

With a grunt, Danse threw Arthur’s legs over his shoulders and drove into him. The bed rocked against the bulkhead, the room smelled of sex and bourbon and steel, and Arthur shouted his name as he finally came, making a hot sticky mess between them.

Danse gritted his teeth, hips pumping in and out of Arthur’s ass until he felt his orgams starting at the base of his spine. His last thrusts must have been just shy of painful but Arthur only pulled him closer, kissing him hard and swallowing his moans as he came.

They breathed each other’s air, foreheads pressed together until Danse gently pulled out. There was a bit of shuffling and grunting until they found a position that was comfortable for them, which was not easy on the narrow bed. Eventually, they managed, lying on their sides, facing each other.

Arthur’s eyes were drifting shut as Danse stroked his chest, drawing circles in the soft hair.

“Ugh-”

“What?” Danse asked.

“I can feel your cum running down my ass,” Arthur grumbled.

Danse turned and blindly groped on the ground until he found the still soggy but now lukewarm rag. He sat up and folded it until he found a reasonably clean patch before he swiped it over Arthur’s skin.

“Good?” Danse asked when he heard Arthur hum.

“ ‘s nice,” Arthur confirmed, already half asleep. He chuckled when he felt Danse’s lips pressing a few tiny kisses on his hip.

“Hey, where are you going,” he sounded more awake as Danse got out of bed.

“To throw this into the sink,” he held up the soiled rag, “and then I’d better get back to my room before anyone gets suspicious.” And after a moment’s hesitation he added, “Sir.”

Arthur sat up, face set in a frown, but Danse had already disappeared into the bathroom. He rinsed the rag and cleaned his dick with soap and water before he walked back.

“Stay!” Arthur had gotten out of bed and was walking toward him. He reached for Danse’s hand and pulled him back to the bed.

“But-”

“Danse, I said stay here with me,” Maxson insisted. “I will put in a requisition order for a bigger bed first thing in the morning.”

“What?” Danse stared at Arthur as if he had sprouted another head. He offered no resistance when Arthur shoved him into bed first and then climbed in behind him, draping the covers over both of them as best he could.

“Good night,” Arthur said, pressing his lips to Danse’s before switching off the light.

“Arthur?” Danse asked into the darkness.

“Yes?”

“Are you sure?”

Instead of a reply, a strong arm tugged Danse down until he was nestled into Arthur’s side.

“Arthur?”

"Hn?"

“Are you going to wear a scarf tomorrow?”

He could feel the chuckle in Arthur’s chest more than he could hear it. “No, I won’t, now go to sleep.”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started and arguably ended as the most self-indulgent bit of fun ever. I'm very grateful for each and every comment and like and reblog I got on tumblr where this first appeared. It's one thing to write what you like, but writing something other people enjoy as well is better than perfect. Lots of love to you all. xx


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